You should of killed me when you had the chance.

I’ve been looking for this strain of MJ for a while now. One night, someone told me where to get it and it’s $40 for a blunt. Fuck that. But one day, Blueberry Kush, you will be mine. Oh yes, you will be mine.

\m/ ^.^ \m/

WE DON’T NEED NO WATAH LET THA MUTHAFUCKA BUUUURN

“look dude i dont hate you i dont hate anybody the apologiy was accepted and there are no hard feelings but i have so many friends that are better than you could ever be but if you dont leave me alone im going to have to block you take a hint”

OMG!!!! UR GUNNA BLOCK ME ON FACEBOOK?!?!?!?!?!

I’m so hurt. Notice the grammar? Kids a fucking n00b. GET WRECKED, SON.

I’m really starting to fucking hate you.

I want to be a poet.

I want to have a way with words.

I want to not be scared.

I want this anxiety to go away.

I want to be free from school and work.

I want to be in a van with friends I love.

I want to play music.

I want to travel through states.

I want to not give a fuck.

I want to break free.

To break these chains.

To believe in myself.

To not hate myself.

To not hate anyone.

But this disease makes it impossible.

  My mother taught me first hand how to be set free:  give up and run away. I wish I could drain out her half  of blood in me, but I’d still have her face.

 I curse reflections everyday.

hashwednesday